


The Christmas Tree Farm

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: A Mystrade Playlist [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Don't copy to another site, Established Mystrade, Established Relationship, IT'S SO FLUFFY, Kid Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mystrade Holiday 2019, Teen Mycroft Holmes/Teen Greg Lestrade, Teen Mystrade, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Young Love, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: After a long day Mycroft takes refuge in a very delightful Christmas memory. It seems he's not the only one that remembers that lovely day.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Series: A Mystrade Playlist [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/728274
Comments: 34
Kudos: 115
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019





	The Christmas Tree Farm

**Author's Note:**

> This might've been inspired by Taylor Swift's "Christmas Tree Farm". Just a bit. Maybe. Probably. Yeah. :)

Mycroft stared out the window at the holiday traffic and lights. The car slowly crept toward the highway. A horn blared, making him flinch. He felt tired, stressed and overwhelmed. His neck popped and cracked as he rolled it, trying to release some tension. Grateful he wasn’t driving this time, Mycroft leaned back in the seat, he closed his eyes…

* * *

“This one Mummy!” Sherlock pointed eagerly at a squat bushy tree.

Mrs. Holmes considered his choice then shook her head. “It’s a bit fat. I’m afraid it would take up the entire room.”

Mycroft stood back watching the two negotiate and kept his opinion to himself. He knew he was only there to provide some muscle when it came time to wrangle the tree onto the car and then home. Not that he had much muscle; at least not as much as the young man standing next to him. Mycroft stole a quick glance to the side and received a quick wink as a reward. Blushing, he bit back a smile.

“Who’s going to win, you think?” The voice was low. The voice in his ear gave him shivers and hot flashes all at the same time. Mycroft could see the frozen breath dissipate into the early evening air. It was still light, but the sun was low in the sky.

“Hard to say.” Mycroft replied softly. “Both can be very stubborn, but Mummy is buying, so…” He shrugged. The boys drifted behind Sherlock and his mother as they wandered from tree to tree, debating the pros and cons of the Fraser Fir and the Norway Spruce.

Shoulders brushed occasionally and Mycroft felt a gloved hand stroke the back of his. Their pinkies linked briefly then separated as Mrs. Holmes looked back to check if they were still in tow. Mycroft was stifling a giggle fit brought on by a witty observation about Sherlock when his mother called him forward.

“Stand here next to this tree,” she ordered. Mycroft dutifully complied. “What’s so funny?” she asked as he snickered softly.

“Nothing, Mummy.” Mycroft schooled his features into his usual somber expression and assiduously tried to avoid looking at his compatriot. Still he couldn’t resist a quick glance at the liquid brown eyes and luminous smile. He bit his lip. Hard.

“What to do think Sherlock? Not too tall?”

Sherlock circled the tree considering all the angles. The tree was well formed and the top was a few inches higher than Mycroft’s head. “Can you reach the top Mikey?” There was a sharp snort followed by a cough and Mycroft briefly scowled at his brother. Sherlock shot a sharp look at the farm hand sent to help them cut the tree.

“It’s Mycroft, as you well know,” he muttered. Sherlock stuck his tongue out at his brother. “And yes, I can reach the top.” Mycroft stretched a long arm and easily touched the tip of the tree.

“Perfect!” Mrs. Holmes clapped her hands.

“Yes!” Sherlock exclaimed. “There’ll be room for the star.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and tongued the inside of his cheek.

Mrs. Holmes gestured to the tree. “This one… young man.”

“Graham.” Sherlock supplied.

“No, It’s Greg.” Mycroft corrected firmly.

“Oh, Greg dear, would you be so kind?” Mrs. Holmes gestured again at the tree.

“Yes ma’am.” Greg replied and began to pull his tools from his shoulder bag.

Mrs. Holmes turned to Sherlock. “I think we deserve some hot chocolate for our efforts.” Sherlock cheered and proceeded to ask for biscuits as well. They headed back to the barn and the food stand without a backwards glance toward the two young men standing by the tree.

Mycroft and Greg watched mother and son disappear behind a tree. Mycroft spoke. “I think they’re gone.”

Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hand and pulled him behind the tree, kissing him soundly. Mycroft’s toes curled up in his boots and he gripped Greg’s thick jumper at the waist, pulling the young man closer.

“God, I’ve been wanting to do that since you got out of the car.” Greg sighed pressing his forehead against Mycroft’s.

Mycroft smiled shyly and stroked Greg’s face. He was too happy to say anything.

Greg lifted his face and grinned. “You’re too fucking adorable in that hat.”

“My hat?” Mycroft hadn’t given it any thought.

“It matches your eyes and your curls are peeking out around the edges.” Greg explained and tugged gently on a lock.

“I need a haircut.” Mycroft self-consciously pulled his hat down lower.

“Don’t. At least not now.” Greg pleaded. “Wait until just before you go back to uni.”

“Okay.” Mycroft agreed easily.

Pressing their bodies tight together with cold noses nudging against cheeks, they kissed again. The kisses were warm and wet and sloppy and seemed endless.

Greg reluctantly pulled away, panting slightly. “I better get this tree down.”

“Before Mummy sends Sherlock to check on us.” Mycroft concurred, breathless.

“Mm…” Greg stole another kiss. “Yeah…” Mycroft snatched the kiss back. “Okay…” Greg chased down a kiss before it got away.

Mycroft chuckled. He grabbed one last kiss and stepped away, leaving Greg dazed and pouting.

Grinning soppily at each other they got the tree cut down and began to carry it back toward the barn.

“Meet at the pub later?” Greg asked hopefully as they neared the barn.

“I’ll be there.” Mycroft smiled widely, his long nose crinkling up.

Mrs. Holmes and Sherlock were waiting by the car, hot chocolates in hand. Greg and Mycroft bundled the tree up on the roof. As Greg was checking the knots he murmured to Mycroft. “I’m going to catch you under the mistletoe tonight.”

“Not if I catch you first.” Mycroft whispered, happiness bubbling in his chest.

“Mikey? Is everything set?” Mrs. Holmes spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Yes, Mummy.” Mycroft replied, gritting his teeth.

Greg winked at Mycroft. “Yes ma’am.” He bent down to the open window. “I was just showing him how to release the knots.”

“Thank you for all your help today.” Mrs. Holmes passed over a tip and Greg accepted it, murmuring his thanks. “What was your name again?”

“Greer.” Sherlock prompted. “Can we leave now?”

“Greg.” Mycroft snapped. “Yes we’re leaving.” He looked apologetically at Greg.

Greg chuckled. He clapped Mycroft on the shoulder. “Nice to see you Mycroft.” He sauntered off to the barn.

Trying to keep the mad grin off his face, Mycroft climbed into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Such a lovely young man, Greg is.” Mrs. Holmes remarked.

Mycroft made a noncommittal noise as he drove the car away. He could see Greg in the rearview mirror waving.

* * *

The car slowed and came to a stop. Mycroft felt his hand being lifted and a kiss pressed to the back of it. He blinked his eyes open and turned to look at Greg, sitting next to him in the driver’s seat.

“Where’ve you been?” Greg smiled fondly.

“Oh, just thinking…” Mycroft returned the fond gaze and then glanced out the window. “This isn’t my parent’s home… Oh… Greg.”

There was the barn with light spilling out from the windows making it glow in the dark. Lights were strung amongst the trees illuminating the farm. He could see a few people wandering around the evergreens, last minute shoppers looking for the perfect tree.

“Care for a hot chocolate and a walk among the Christmas trees?”

Mycroft turned back to Greg, eyes shining. “Won’t we be late?”

“Traffic is terrible this time of year.” Greg winked.

“I love you.” Mycroft breathed.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” Greg leaned over and kissed Mycroft gently. “I love you too.”


End file.
